


Spilt Tea

by dudewheresmytea



Series: Kinktober 2018 Collection [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Kink, F/M, Hair-pulling, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, Multi, Service Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 02:52:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudewheresmytea/pseuds/dudewheresmytea
Summary: Gladio serves tea to Aranea and Crowe. For Kintober day 10. Prompt used: Hair pulling.





	Spilt Tea

Aranea and Crowe sat together at a circular table coated with black lacquer. Autumn mid-morning sunlight filtered through the large windows of Aranea’s brownstone mansion, glittering through their eyes and hair as they chatted idly. A delicate porcelain tea cup and saucer assembly was set in front of each woman.

“More tea, please, garcon Gladiolus.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A large man ambled over. He carried a silver tray with a white bone china tea set placed upon it. He was dressed in neat black slacks, black leather shoes that he had shined just that morning with linseed oil, and a crisp white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A short black apron was tied around his waist.

He set the tray upon the table, lifted the teapot, hovered it over Crowe’s teacup and began to pour. When her cup was full, he turned noiselessly on his heels and repeated the process for his Mistress. Although his initial form was excellent, at the last moment he righted the teapot too quickly and a few drops of tea ran down the curved spout and onto the table.

Aranea looked up at him with furrowed brows. “You’ve spilled some. Clean it.”

“I’m sorry –“ Gladio went to hastily fetch a napkin out of his apron pocket but Aranea stopped him with a hand firmly grasping his forearm.

“No. Come here.” She pulled him toward her. When he got close enough for her to reach his head, she balled her fist into the long ends of his hair and steadily pulled him downward toward the stain. “With your tongue. Clean it.”

Crowe looked on with a smirk as a deep flush washed over the bent man’s face. He slowly slipped his tongue out and lapped up the tiny puddle of spilled tea. “Make sure you get it all, _gaaarcon_ ,” she teased with a giggle.


End file.
